One Moment
by Bucky LaFontaine
Summary: Someone makes an observation regarding Jarod and Miss Parker


TITLE: ONE MOMENT

WRITER: BUCKY LAFONTAINE

RATING: PG-13

ONE MOMENT

Serendipity is defined as the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for. I read that comes the fairy tale of "The Three Princes of Serendip." Means nothing to me meant nothing to me until that moment when it suddenly did mean something. Wouldn't the world -as we know it- mean more if we had the capacity to stretch that moment of finding into a lifetime of owning?

I had my moment of Serendipity or as further defined by an Englishman retelling the story: _"They were always making discoveries, by accident and sagacity, of things they were not in quest of_". Yes, I was not in search of- nor aware of -anything so brilliant as she that stalked into my shop that dark, chilly rainy day and demanded to speak to the owner. Although, perhaps I should have been, I should have pieced together the pieces of his puzzle and known why so many of his questions were answered that day when she walked in. I understood before she left why he asked and why. Oh he knew the answer, I'm sure of it now, he wanted someone else to give him the shove in the right direction. I am the shovel. Not being the owner I was in no hurry to deal with some snobby know it all bitch; besides I was working on my lunch. One of the few highlights of the day in the shop lately is the preparation of lunch and the hope that an enlightened soul will return to enjoy it with me. I didn't even have that until my serendipitous meeting with Jarod.

The man wondered into my shop like he had never heard of adult bookstores. I'll never forget the size of his eyes when I asked if I could help him, they were filled with curious surprise and perhaps a touch of anxious fear, as though I was offering him more than he was prepared to take. As if!

He kindly asked about my injury and properly ascertained how and when and even supplied a few helpful hints in dealing with certain aspects of the injury and the chair my life was now enchained. I remembered asking if he was a doctor and his very strange reply of, "Not today". In many ways the man was a little different. He seemed to crave intimate relationships, he would share details of his life that as bizarre as they seemed, you could see the pain in his eyes as he told of incidents and accidents of a very personal nature. After sharing these experiences he would question me for my thoughts on either his feelings or the outcome of each experience. In his search for understanding women, family and humanity, I received more than I gave. In the two weeks he spent visiting the shop we became friends, I looked forward to his visits more than I thought, it was only after he had left that I realized how much I did connect to him. We were both isolated from society, I through my handicap, he through whatever the circumstances put him into the situation he was in. When I asked for more information regarding that situation or the woman he alluded to, he simply stated, "it's complicated" his tone betraying a great underlying sadness and confusion.

I enjoyed his capacity for multitasking, a customer had come in asking for some of the stranger personal appliances sold in the store, Jarod was ready to tie the customer down and force names of the injured parties from his lips. Later as we discussed human sexuality and the difference between pain and pleasure, Jarod was watching with a strange fascination (a rather common approach to many subjects I was to learn) as I prepared the grilled chicken wings after disconnecting the smoke detector he never stopped asking questions as he made the hand vacuum into a more useful tool for disbursing the smoke from the grill.

One topic that held a firm hold upon his brain and I believe his heart was that of unrequited love, and if it were possible to be misguided as to what is love and what is passion, lust or just plain wanting that which you know you cannot have. It was a lingering topic that lasted nearly the entire time he came into the shop. More in-depth questions, deeper emotions, more complex more intimate- more more more, I was as enthralled by his thinking and the direction we were going in day by day.

The man was a contradiction in of himself. He was innocent and yet more educated than any I've talked to in my lifetime. He was a challenge to my mind. He gave my live a buzz. Jarod took me out of my chair and allowed me the freedom I hadn't given myself in years. I have not returned to that life, I will not return to it. Running this shop is only a means to an end. It allows me to pay my bills. I have expanded my book publishing and through a contact of Jarod's do a bit of editing for a big publisher in the city.

Back to the lady in the shop. When I rolled down the ramp to talk to her and her friends, I didn't need the cover picture on Jarod's book to know and understand why he was so conflicted over women. The woman was a contradiction of women, much as Jarod was of men. Hard when you expected softness, softness when you expected firmness, always covered quickly by a nod, a bowed head or a blink of an eye. They were halves of the same coin. She was the book he had written; she was the explanation of the visits, questions and confusion.

When Jarod later contacted me to make sure she had bought his book, and he made sure she was to pay for it, he asked for the smallest details of her visit from how she looked, her voice, her expressions, how she treated me. He need not have worried she was actually very friendly and kind to me. I expected a hard-nosed bitch but found beauty, intelligence and a fellow isolated wonderer. If this is a just universe they will find each, a moment would be cruel, but a moment is enough to build memory that follows us through our life.


End file.
